


That Time Of Year

by MisterEAnon



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 05:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8000413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterEAnon/pseuds/MisterEAnon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Thematic Thursday. Theme: Drunk. Contains incest.</p><p>It's that time of year again. The time Foxes are in season, yearning to come home to their mate.</p><p>Every year, Nick and his mother want to see each other again. This time, they actually do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Time Of Year

Mrs. Wilde preferred wine.

There was any number of drinks she could have been partial to, really. She could have been a gin girl. Or an absinthe vixen. But there was something undoubtedly classy about wine, something that made it feel respectable for an older woman such as herself.

Sometimes, she needed to feel respectable.

It was that time of year again. Foxes were in season. She could practically smell how virile the todds were compared to normal. In older times, this would be the only season foxes could breed at all.

That wasn't true these days, of course. But it was still the time of year when they became almost excessively potent.

Which was why she was at home, drinking away her worries. The classiness of her set up only belied the reason she was drinking to forget.

Ever since her husband had moved on, there was only one fox she had ever loved. That she had ever lusted after.

The one she couldn't have.

Nick was the cutest little kit growing up. She'd loved him as innocently as any mother loved their child. Until he hit puberty.

He was still just about innocent enough back then to bring his 'problem' to her. And from the moment she saw him bearing morning wood with the kind of youthful vigor only a teenager could have, she knew.

She knew she loved him in a new way. Needed him in a new way.

It was so hard. She wanted to hold him. To touch him. To explore his body, and let him explore hers.

She didn't. She couldn't. She had hugged him close, nuzzling into his neck. She promised it was okay, it was something that all boys had when they got old enough.

She promised it would go away eventually, and tomorrow she would show him how to take care of it himself.

The day after that, she brought him an adult magazine. They still had those, back then. And she instructed him to just touch himself. He'd feel good, and he'd learn from there.

He wanted his mother to stay and watch. To make sure he was doing it right.

She hadn't had the heart to say no.

 

( * * * )

 

She stared into the bottom of her empty wine bottle.

She set it down with a clink, and opened a new one, before glancing around.

Oh, no one would know. She set the glass aside and chugged straight from the bottle.

She was halfway through it when she heard a knock on the door. She managed to keep her groan being purely mental.

If she had to assign a word to the emotion she felt at the moment, it would be “Ughhhh.”

She reluctantly got off the couch. She was in a saucy little nightgown John had gotten her years ago. It was light, and comfortable.

It also made her feel better that she still fit into it.

She padded down the hall, opening the door. “Whatever it is--”

She paused.

Nick stared at her, and then averted his eyes from her scantily clad form.

“Uh… Hey, mom. I'm home.”

 

( * * * )

 

She could feel Nick looking at her with concern. She hadn't had time to hide the wine bottles before he came in.

She ignored it. “So, Nicky. What brings you home?”

She was sprawled out across a couch. Nick had claimed a chair across from it. There was a coffee table between it she had put her bottles on.

“Mom, c'mon. No one calls me that anymore. And… I don't know. Something about the season just makes me want to come home, and this time I did,” he admit, rubbing the back of his neck with a paw.

She waved a paw. “Well, I call you that. After all, you'll always be my--”

She choked on the word. God, she couldn't even pretend anymore. He'd never be her sweet innocent little kit again.

Her son was even more concerned now, bless his heart. “Mom, are you--”

She took a deep breath. “I'm… I'm fine, Nicky- Nick.”

She couldn't stand staring at the half empty bottle on the table between them. She reached for it, hoping to move it out of sight.

Nick's paw met hers on the bottle. “No,” he said. “I don't think you're fine.”

She huffed, withdrawing her paw in order to cross her arms. “I miss the days when you didn't question Mommy.”

He didn't buy her deflection. She raised him too well, of course. “Mom.”

She sighed. Out loud this time, too. “Yes. Fine, I'm not… Fine.”

He moved. Since she'd sat up to reach for the bottle, he claimed the newly freed real estate on the couch for his own. “And why not?”

She glanced away. “It's nothing.”

“It's clearly not.”

She bit her lip. How could she-- No, she couldn't. Never. “It's NOTHING, Nick.”

“You've got the wine out, and it's one.”

She winced. She'd only gotten up at noon. “Nick, please. I can't explain this to you--”

“Why not? Mom, please, you know I care about you,” he insisted, picking up the empty bottle. Maybe it would be better if this was out of sight--

Her fists clenched. “Because YOU'RE THE PROBLEM!”

He stiffened. The bottle fell, shattering on the floor in front of them.

Immediately, she regret her outburst. Oh god.

Oh god. She never should have had so much wine.

“What…?”

“Nick… Nick- God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't- You should go,” she murmured, rising from the couch.

Nick stood before she could, using the bushy tip of his tail as a makeshift broom to brush away the glass shards for the time being. “No.”

“Nick--”

“I said *no*, Mom. Tell me.” He glanced away. “I… I at least deserve to know how I fucked everything up this time."

He barely had time to react as she suddenly rushed forward, pulling him into a tight hug. “No! God, no. You didn't do a thing.”

“You just said--”

“I know what I said. It's not you. It's me. And…” She took a deep breath. “What you mean to me.”

He let her just hold him for a few seconds more before pressing. “What does that mean?”

She leaned back, glancing away again. “It's… Oh, nick. You remember when I first taught you about morning wood?”

Nick's face contorted from the speed of his mood whiplash. “What? Oh, god, why are we talking about this now.”

She almost rolled her eyes at how predictable her son's reaction was. But the grave mood hadn't left her. “Nick… Ever since your father passed on, there's only ever been one fox for me.”

He tilted his head. “What do you-- No.” He sounded like he abjectly refused to believe what she was implying.

She looked down, folding her paws in her lap. “And… And that one fox, I can never have. I couldn't live with myself if I hurt him like that. So, every time mating season comes around, and I can smell all the other foxes getting ready… I lock myself in and drink to forget.”

He put a paw on her leg, and she flinched. “Mom…”

“No. I… I know you won't want to come around anymore.” She could already feel the tears welling up in her eyes. “But you deserve to know the truth. You never did anything wrong. It was always my fault for being wrong, for being broken-”

He slapped her.

She reeled, ending up on her back on the couch from shock. “Y-You slapped me.”

He stared at his own paw, as if he couldn't believe it was his. “Oh god, I slapped my own mother,” he mirrored, not seeming like he was listening.

He stood up, voice cracking.“Well, while I'm here, I might as well dig through my old room. Pretty sure the Junior Ranger Scouts manual will remind me how to tie a noose.”

“Nick! Do NOT joke about that.”

“I'm honestly not sure if I'm joking.”

She gaped at him.

Then she slapped him. Significantly harder then he'd hit her.

He winced, drawing back and touching his face. “Ow. Is this something we do, now? Is this just a new family activity?

“Nick, that sort of thing is NOT OKAY.”

“Well, neither is hitting your own mother!”

“Nick--”

“I mean, I only… I don't want you saying those things. But that doesn't mean I can hit you.”

She gently laid a paw over his. He tensed up, but didn't move away. “Why… Why don't you want me saying things like that?”

He glared into his own lap. “Because you are NOT wrong. You're not broken. And…”

He glanced away. It felt like nobody could stand to look at each other in this house. “…You're not alone.”

“Nicky, what--”

“I feel the same way, okay? Ever since you- 'Helped me', back then, it was always you I was thinking about. Having fantasies about.” He lifted his paws from his lap, pressing them into his face. “God, I'm a freak.”

She had no idea how to feel. Her emotions were a storm. And her concern for her son easily dwarfed her capacity to give a damn about her own feelings. “Nick, you're not--”

He wasn't listening. “And every year, every mating season, I always think about home. About you. God, I'm in my thirties and still a virgin because there was only one woman I ever wanted to sleep with.”

She stared at him. Then, she reached for the remaining bottle of wine, and finished the rest of the bottle at once.

Nick glared at her disapprovingly. “Mom--”

“Come now, Nicky,” she purred in her most seductive voice. A tone that had never failed to entice his father. “No fox should be a virgin at your age. Let Momma help you with that.”

He froze as she started to pull off her clothes.

He never stood a chance.

 

( * * * )

 

She stared at the ceiling, curled up with Nick in bed. She was starting to have doubts.

The sex was incredible, of course. Nick made up for his inexperience with his enthusiasm once he came around.

And his virility. Fuck, but she was full. The amount he came was very nearly excessive, when he was in season. His balls were heavily swollen.

“Mom?”

She tilted her head to look at him. “…Yes, honey?”

“Do…” He swallowed. “Do you regret it?”

She pulled the blanket up, pulling it around her. “Nick, I'm absolutely terrified you're going to leave forever and never come back.”

He gave an anxious laugh. “Really? 'C-cause, I'm over here being terrified you're going to change your mind, chase me out, and change your locks.”

“Nick, I would never. You're my son!”

He squirmed. “Exactly.”

He had a point.

“You're my son… And I've wanted this for decades. I would never. I would be ecstatic if I wasn't so afraid.”

He leaned into her. “Really? I feel just like that.”

She pulled him close. “Nick, promise me you'll come back tomorrow. No, for the rest of the season.”

“…Okay.”

“…And that you'll come back next season, too.”

“Okay, Mom.”

She pressed her nose into his chest fluff, and slowly dozed off. Despite her worries, being so close to her son, his scent in her lungs was more then enough to ease her into a peaceful sleep.

And, slowly, Nick fell asleep, too.

 

( * * * )

 

Things were strained, for a while. But eventually, the both of them managed to fully accept their feelings, once they well and truly realized they both completely reciprocated with no regrets whatsoever.

Mrs. Wilde still lived alone. But, every mating season, her son came back to her. Back to his mate, the way his instincts had always wanted him to.

Two foxes indulged ancient instincts, and were finally happy.


End file.
